cowering on the too-small toilet.
“Because my bullheaded grandson acted so incredibly out of character—” ChiChi paused to smile, as if she found her words incredibly amusing. Apparently everyone but Regan saw the amusement, because even the cat was grinning.
Regan could think of a few select and more accurate words than bullheaded to describe Gabe but settled on a nod.
“You are out of a job. And we”—ChiChi glanced at her two friends, who appeared equally as worried—“are in desperate need of a new look.”
Regan looked at the St. John’s–wearing granny, then down at her own wrinkled and wet suit, and frowned.
“I was talking about the town’s public perception,” ChiChi clarified with a laugh that let Regan know just how bad she appeared at the moment. “We need to modernize our image without losing all of the tradition that makes this town special. Prove to the people that we aren’t a bunch of crazy old bats. Those pushy PTA moms are driving us nuts with social media this and twatting that. The minute they figure out the only thing we know how to do on the Interweb is shop for men—”
“And book trips to Vegas,” Pricilla added with an excited nod.
“Not to mention how we lost Randolph...” ChiChi trailed off and made the sign of the cross.
“There’s already whispers of impeachment. Our mothers founded the Community Action Committee over seventy years ago, and this silicone, nannyfied, yoga pants–wearing posse—” Lucinda stopped, her hands shaking. The cat hissed. “This is war, Regan, and we need a secret weapon.”
Regan scooted to the edge of the toilet. She could be their secret weapon. Last year she had consulted part-time with a high-end kids clothing boutique in Portland, helping them grow their social media presence and attract new clientele. Even though the contract had only lasted six months, she had quickly become a Twitter goddess, creating a black book filled with blogging mommies who could help spread the word, and she hated yoga pants on design alone.
“Hang on, honey,” ChiChi said. “I see that got your attention, but before you begin dreaming of Fendi and fittings with Valentino, the actual budget for the position is...well, nonexistent really.”
“That damn PTA took away our hiring power after we offered the summer dance instructor position to a stripper we met on one of our trips to Vegas.” All three women went dreamy-eyed at Pricilla’s words. “He had a marvelous cha-cha.”
“PTA or not,” ChiChi said, “without us the school’s art program would have died out when the dot-com industry went into the crapper. So all we can offer you is a nonpaid position, but according to our bylaws, members of the Community Action Committee gain free tuition for all of their offspring. You could build your résumé, and Holly would be able to stay here at St. Vincent’s.”
“This is so wonderful, but,” I slept with your grandson-in-law! “I don’t have a job or a place to—”
In went another truffle, this one milk chocolate and rum, cutting off all her reasons for why she couldn’t stay.
“I would hire you back if I could,” ChiChi said, wiping a chocolate smudge off Regan’s cheek. “But the family made a decision and I was outvoted. No matter how much I adore you, we are Italian, after all.”
Regan wished she was Italian. It sounded safe and warm.
“So I got on the e-mail this morning,” Lucinda said proudly. “My cousin, Perkins, says you can rent his place. He owns the St. Helena Corkery.”
“You want me to move my daughter into a corkery?”
“Goodness no, that would be silly,” Lucinda said, stroking her cat. “He renovated the upstairs into an apartment for when Ruth kicks him out. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s clean, within walking distance to school, and available immediately.”
“What happens when Ruth kicks him out again?”
“He’d sleep in the corkery,” she said as if Regan were slow-witted. “Plus, we’re Baudouins. The second Perkins heard that Gabriel was giving you a hard time, he offered the space. No credit check needed.”
“But she’s a DeLuca.” Regan pointed her chin at ChiChi.
“I, my dear, am a Ryo. The second oldest family name in the Valley.” Her tone told Regan to never make that mistake again. “And as such, I never took my husband’s name. Created quite a stir in town. Although my husband loved my independent streak.” She eyed Regan carefully, her expression turning thoughtful. “You remind me of myself when I was your age, which is why I’m telling you that there is a job at the Napa